


Like having a Wife

by Jassanja



Category: Wimbledon
Genre: Beer, M/M, Tennis, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 21:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jassanja/pseuds/Jassanja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together on the Tour - Sometimes it's like having a wife</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like having a Wife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aramley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aramley/gifts).



Being on the tour together was as much a blessing as a curse.

It was one thing to share a success together, just as it was great to have a sympathetic ear to rant to after a game that got lost because an umpire made one or two wrong decisions.  
And they usually had both, and sometimes it was the opposite, but it helped too.

But there were other times too.  
When being on tour together felt more like having a wife. A wife you stopped loving a long time ago but couldn’t get rid of for one reason or another.  
As great as it sometimes was to spend so much time together, so bad it could be during other times.  
When you couldn’t see each others faces anymore.  
When a open toothpaste tube made you want to hit the other, when a toilet seat left up could get you grumpy for days.  
But today wasn’t a day like that  
Today was one of the good days, one of the good weeks. They both had made if fairly far in this tournament, it was a good reason to celebrate.

It was around 11pm when they stumbled on one of the practice courts. Holding each other up, as they both probably had a drink too much.

“I bet I can still hit more cans than you!” Peter challenged.

“No way” Dieter answered, “you couldn’t even do that sober, let alone a couple of beers in. Not even British beer”

“Now what’s wrong with British beer?”

“It’s colored water. Nothing more”

“You did not just say that”

“Oh, I totally did!” Dieter jumped on the spot “Have you ever heard of millions of people travelling to a British beer fest to drink liters upon liters of their beer? Usually one pint in a pup is enough to put them off for a while”

Peter lined up on the ground line and served hard towards one of the beer cans on the other side. The can with the logo of a German beer company went down with a loud clatter.

“Now that is what I think of German beer!” he mocked

“Oh you just got lucky with that serve!” Dieter answered before he took a try at the line of cans himself, but missed by a wide margin.

He held up his hand towards his friend before Peter could say a word. “That’s what second serve is for,” he simply said.

Peter just grinned and motion with his hand for Dieter to continue and try again. Dieter missed again.

Peter served the next ball and hit another can without problem. “See, German beer makes you a lousy player, I can still hit can after can after all that British beer.”  
He proved it by hitting another can off the line.

“I don’t know if that is a proof against German beer.” Dieter said as he watched. “It is more prove of that I was right. All that British beer and you’re still able to see the cans straight. Doesn't that say enough about the quality of that beer? Way under par.”

“Who says I am still seeing them straight?” Peter asked. A lopsided grin broke out on his lips.

Dieter just lifted an eyebrow and gestured towards the three remaining cans on the other side of the court.

“Oh, there is a neat trick involved.” He kept grinning.

“Are you going to tell me?” Peter asked.

“I could, but I am not sure if it is a good idea,” Peter brought his hand up to his face as if he was thinking hard about the matter.

Dieter dropped his racket and stepped closer to Peter. “You know, I have my ways to get it out of you.” His voice had dropped to a dangerous tone.

“Oh no,” Peter almost whispered, “you wouldn't dare!”

“Oh, I dare!”

An instant later Dieter was pouncing, throwing Peter out of balance and down to the floor. His hands went to Peter’s side, tickling him mercilessly.

Peter rolled from side to side as Dieter’s knowing fingers hit all the right - wrong - spots to make him beg for mercy. He tried to buck the other man off, but it was useless. Dieter knew him too well.

After what felt like an eternity Dieter finally stopped the assault. “So, will you tell me now?” he asked, still sitting atop Peter’s body.

“No!” Peter answered, still trying to get his breath back

“I can continue this for hours, you know!” Dieter threatened him while smiling down at him.

”Torturing me just because I know better how to hit a few cans after emptying them? Is that what you fall back down upon, for lack of a better way to get me to talk”

“I could use other methods…”

Peter’s throat went dry as he watched Dieter lick his lips.

“You could…” he half offered, but when Dieter’s hands slipped under his shirt and up his belly he thought better of it. “But perhaps not here. I don’t want to find out how the ATP will react when they find two of their players making out in the middle of a court”

“Kick us off a tournament we're both already out?” Dieter joked

“I was thinking more along the lines of kicking us out of the tour altogether”

“Right, better not risk that. We don’t want to risk your chance of ever winning Wimbledon if that would happen.”

“Yeah, right!”

They both started laughing.

“So will you get off me?”

“Oh, I plan to get off of you”

“Not like that”

Dieter sighed and got up, then offered his hand to Peter to drag him up from the floor as well.

They crossed the court and started picking up the empty cans on the other side.

“I still remember showing you that training trick!” Peter said as he put the last can in a trash bag.

“But it was me who perfected it,” Dieter answered. “Beer cans are just much better for practice than those little soda cans you used to put up”

“You have to hit the middle!” Peter suddenly said as they were leaving the court.

Dieter made a questioning noise as he looked up at him.

“If you are drunk, and see the cans double. You have to hit in the middle, between them. At least that is how it works for me”

“Of course you couldn’t say that earlier, when we still had them standing, so I could try it for myself.” Dieter stopped and turned.

“Of course not!”

They weren’t completely off the court yet, but Dieter still used the moment to pull Peter close to him.

“Just don’t think I will forget this. The next time we do this, I will hit those cans in the middle. I will beat you!”

“Only in your dreams!”

“I my dreams I do other things to you than just beat you on the court”

“Things like what?” Peter asked, his eyebrows up.

Dieter leaned in and whispered a few choice words into his ear, causing Peter to gasp.

Sometimes when it felt like your best friend turned into your wife, you just had to act like a good husband. So Peter turned to grab Dieter and kiss him hard and deep right there, ATP be damned!


End file.
